


can't you take a hint?

by serendippety



Series: darling, i fancy you [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, where they're pursuing their solo careers during the hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendippety/pseuds/serendippety
Summary: “He’s not going to be weirded out,” Harry replies, tart with exasperation. The eye-roll is almost evident in his voice when he continues. “If he’s had no problems sticking his penis up your arse, then some dating is not going to faze him.”-in which Niall tries extremely hard to woo Liam
Relationships: Niall Horan/Liam Payne
Series: darling, i fancy you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099949
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	can't you take a hint?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the aforementioned sequel to "let me, please" which you may or may not have read. I know I use a lot of the word "darling" in my titles - and i will say this: this actually existed before "kiss me, darling", but I didn't think I'd ever publish this so I nicked the word "darling" for something else. Either way, series title further stolen from t swift's London Boy c: 
> 
> Louis doesn't make an appearance yet. he's not tagged for that reason. Liam doesn't appear yet, but he's in the ship so it's a given he's in the fic eventually..
> 
> RPF. You know the drill. It's not too late to turn back. Also. M rated for a reason. Make responsible decisions.

Niall knows he has a problem. 

Has been made aware of it ever since that fateful night at the award show, rutting hard against the rough of Liam’s hand, and coming straight into his trousers. It’s maybe a bit funny to Niall that that one single encounter would open a floodgate for something bigger. As if he’d been tottering on the precipice of _something_ without having realised it, and a casual jerk off between friends was all he needed to go tumbling down into some kind of abyss. Niall hadn’t exactly known what had changed; all he did know was that he wanted _more_. 

At first, Niall had been convinced that it was all about dick; about the sudden need for the heady curl of it flat against his tongue. 

He’d gone on to suck someone off at the afterparty. A random bloke – somebody’s plus one maybe - that he picked up after having fully given up on finding Liam amongst the throng of people. The thought of satisfying that maddening itch had been the only thing on his mind; anticipation sparking down his spine, making his toes curl. He’d been a bit too eager, and it probably showed on his face.

Only, it didn’t deliver. Didn’t satisfy him, not really. The cock had been a bit too long, and it didn’t have the right girth. But the worst of it all, was that the bloke hadn’t even been _nice_. 

Niall would pin that as the exact moment he realised that he hadn’t been craving just any dick, but Liam’s dick. That while he’s sat there sitting on his knees, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and swallowing some of the foulest tasting cum ever, he’s suddenly wanting the company of someone else. Someone lovelier, kinder, and all bright eyes. 

It’s only later, when he’s jerking himself off in the small space of his own room, does he realise that maybe the problem is a bit more complicated than he thought. Because every time he had his eyes closed, he could only see Liam’s hands on him; thicker fingers curled tightly around his cock, tugging at him languid and sensual, nails lightly scraping at the ridges, fingers thumbing at his slit. And when he came, spurting all over himself, Liam’s name had been a strangled choke that spilled out from his lips.

So, yeah, he’s definitely in a bit of a pinch here. Somehow, this is worse than what he’s used to handling. Worse than almost anything he’s ever had to deal with. Because it isn’t like he’s royally screwed something up again. No, this time, something’s fucked _him_ up. Figuratively, and metaphorically. 

The fact of the matter is that Liam Payne has crawled under his skin in the worst kind of way without him even realising. Even more laughable is the fact that he really doesn’t mind. Quite fancies the idea, even. 

He likes Liam. And that’s the whole fucking problem. 

-

Niall prides himself in being more level-headed than your average guy. He’s done big things in his life; topping charts, breaking records and having thousands of girls run circles around him. He is used to the extraordinary, and nothing really shocks him anymore. So, really, this should be nothing. No sweat off his brow. He isn’t dying, his career is fine. Really. It’s just Liam. 

Except it’s _Liam_. And that’s what makes everything terrifying and scary but also familiar.

He tries, for a couple of days, to make sense of it all. Tries to weed out the exact time and date he started crushing on Liam without even knowing. Had it been there since X Factor? What about touring? What about when they’d started casually getting each other off? It makes his head spin, and each time it gives him a headache worse than the last. 

One week, and he can’t fucking take it anymore. 

“Harold, tell me what to do,” Niall groans into the receiver, finger nails biting into the flesh of his palm. The upset he’s feeling has little to do with Liam, but more to do with the helplessness of the situation. 

“You could tell him,” Harry tells him flatly, voice staticky over the line. He’s far away, tied down to some commitment or another all the way in LA. Dunkirk, Niall thinks, but truthfully, it could be a number of things. Harry is always busy these days. But he is sweet in the way that he makes time for his mates, even if it means having to take a call at two in the morning. 

“Yeah, like I’d just go up to him and ask him out on a date.” He picks at a scab on his knee dismally, wincing when it gives way. He sighs and Harry sighs back at him.

“Except you could totally just do that,” Harry says unhelpfully. Niall doesn’t know why they’re even having this conversation anymore. 

“What if that weirds him out?”

“He’s not going to be weirded out,” Harry replies, tart with exasperation. The eye-roll is almost evident in his voice when he continues. “If he’s had no problems sticking his penis up your arse, then some dating is not going to faze him.” 

Niall groans, not quite convinced. He’s twenty-four, and dating should be much more of a breeze now than it has been before. He has confidence unparalleled but somehow, this rattles him. Really, it’s the idea of _liking_ Liam that has him so on edge; makes his friend seem nigh untouchable even if he’s just right there, one text away. It frustrates him that he doesn’t quite know how to approach the situation. 

“What are you scared of?” Harry finally asks, when Niall doesn’t answer. His voice is gentle, sympathetic. It’s a bit funny how Harry is younger than him but still has insight beyond years. The maturity is disarming in a way that makes Harry easy to trust. 

Niall shrugs, even if Harry can’t see him. “’m not scared. Just…” he trails off, unsure. Everything about this is just simply odd. He hasn’t even been in close contact with Liam since their hiatus had begun, but something about the situation just seems delicate. Like a long time coming, as if all of this had been bound to happen eventually. “I don’t wanna upset the balance of things. Or scare him away.”

“Drop hints then,” Harry says bemused. “Lots of them. He’s not dumb, our Liam. He’ll notice. Eventually.” The last bit he adds, for good measure.

“We barely see each other, let alone talk,” Niall complains. 

“Well, Niall, you both live in the same city,” Harry snips, eyes positively rolling this time. With that tone of voice, there’s no way he isn’t. “Make it happen.”

It makes Niall smile, lips quirking involuntarily. “That doesn’t mean anything, Harold.”

“Yes, it does,” Harry retorts. “You could text and meet up for coffee in two hours.”

“You say that, but when have we ever done that while you were back here in London?”

Harry scoffs. “Please, Niall. You’re welcome to come woo me in bed without the pleasantries.”

“That’s different, you know that’s different. We’re not talking about getting casual here,” Niall scolds lightly. He can’t really help it when a weird giggle slips out of his mouth. It’s hard to tell what Harry’s thinking sometimes. “And I’m not gonna woo you, mate. No offense.” 

“None taken. But really, Nialler,” Harry tells him kindly, voice going soft,” Liam has never asked me to be his fuck buddy-“

Niall snickers. “Harold, I don’t-“

“I’m just saying,” Harry cuts, “compared to the rest of us, you’re different. He’s always been particularly sweet with you.”

Niall doesn’t really know what that means. Liam has been rough and boisterous with him, like he is with Louis. If Liam is gentle with anyone, it’s more often than not Harry. But he doesn’t argue; likes that what Harry’s said has a nice ring to it. The way he says it sounds like a very pretty affirmation, almost like a blessing. It has his mind working with a vigour that he’s only ever saved for lyric-writing. 

He lets the words sink in, listening to the crackling static of Harry breathing. He’s lucky Harry is patient enough to wait through the dissonance of the clusterfuck that is Niall’s mind; Harry doesn’t hang up while they waste long minutes on expensive international calls. 

“I guess I like him,” Niall admits finally, throwing the confession loud and silly into the open air; words dissolving down the line in electric waves to spit out on the other end just for Harry to hear. The statement sounds bizarre rolling off his tongue, but it’s true. He knows it is. Has spent hours dithering over the truth, stewing in a strange mix of acceptance and panic. 

Harry though, ever the sport, hums noncommittally; like an automatic response. He makes it sound simple; easy. “I suppose you do.” 

“I’m going to knock him off his feet,” Niall declares, like an oath - a promise. It suddenly feels a lot more serious now; like an official tie-in; Harry, his unwilling witness.

But Harry hums back supportively. “Yeah, you do that,” he says. “It’ll be fine, okay? I’m sure Li likes you too.”

And Niall doesn’t doubt that, but the question is: how much?

**Author's Note:**

> i will preface this now by saying that in the deepest of my heart, i know i will never finish this. i did a looooot of thinking and decided to upload it anyway in the teeniest tiniest of hopes that one day i will pick up the pen and finish this off. you'll probably get a chapter (likely) or two (questionable) more out of this before it goes stale. 
> 
> I want to say comments are appreciated, but i know it's pretty undeserved with how i'm telling you straight up that i'm unlikely to finish this. lol. i hope you enjoy what there is to enjoy, though.


End file.
